


Featherman Pink & The Queen Of Evil

by Alexilulu



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Cosplay, F/F, Sickfic, a lot of making out, adorable nerds, background Yukamitsu, more like foreground?, not the focus is what i mean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-03-08 00:29:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13446666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexilulu/pseuds/Alexilulu
Summary: In the explosive finale of Featherman Phoenix, their beloved Featherman Saffron enacted a stunning betrayal against the Phoenixes, disappearing during Queen Syzygy's assault on their base, and Featherman Pink is missing in action. In this season of Featherman Phoenix R(evival), see the explosive conclusion to their battle to revive the Sun before Queen Syzygy's plot to snuff it with the power of the Moon comes to fruition!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this ended up going a lot longer than I figured it ever would, but i had a lot of fun doing it, so hey, great!

**Featherman Phoenix R-Requiem** (Premiere: 12/4 07:00, TVN)  _ In the stunning return of the Feathermen of years past, the team discovers that after her stunning betrayal last season, Featherman Saffron has taken their beloved Featherman Pink hostage…with a deadly twist! Don’t miss out! _

“…Okay? It’s the season opener. What about it?” Futaba hands the printout of the episode promo website back to Ann, shrugging. Behind them, Yusuke has drawn Akira and Haro into a detailed explanation of the concept of chiaroscuro using Akira’s window as example. Makoto, meanwhile, is deeply focused on a book of advanced calculus problems across the table from them, while Ryuji’s playing Ann’s Vita on Akira’s bed, grunting and mumbling curses at whatever’s happening on screen.

“It’s not just  _ any _ season opener. It’s Featherman Pink and Featherman Saffron…alone…together.” Futaba raises an eyebrow at Ann, who scrambles to explain. “I know  _ I _ love villain girls, and  _ you _ love Featherman! I thought you’d want to watch it, okay? You keep talking about Featherman Phoenix in the group chat, it sounded like some fun. Something to do on a Sunday morning.” Futaba’s mouth twitches when she sees Ann visibly deflate as she finishes. If this were animated, her pigtails would have drooped too.

Yeah, she’s not been quiet about Featherman—she missed the season when it was airing, so she’d been watching it in her spare time and occasionally peppering the group chat with mentions of events or exciting one-liners. Mostly Takeba-sama’s, to be honest. They got  _ one _ good actor in this season, and it’s Featherman Pink; everyone else just can’t compete, in Futaba’s mind.

“Well, I’m not usually awake that early, but I think I can make an excuse for you. And Featherman.” Futaba makes a big show of shrugging, like ‘what can you do?’, but the little Futaba in her head starts screaming the second she finishes speaking.  _ YOU TOLD HER YOU’D MAKE AN EXCEPTION FOR  _ HER  _ YOU IDIOT! WHAT IF SHE THINKS— _

“Really? Great! I’ll bring tons of snacks! Is my place okay? I don’t wanna intrude on Boss’ house or anything.”

“I—I guess.” Futaba pulls out her phone in a show of false nonchalance, turning to the Internet for solace as she berates herself for letting on so much towards Ann.  _ She probably just wants to see it for fun, a novelty. Not like she cares about it. Or about you.  _ Before Ann can continue planning the day out with her, Akira sits back down at the table and calls the Thieves to order.

* * *

 

_ “ _ Alright, it’s coming on!” Ann bounces in her seat, sending her blonde hair flying everywhere, including into Futaba’s face. She’d tried to sit further away from Ann on the couch, but from the moment she entered Ann’s house the girl had been all over Futaba, handing her snacks and a drink (”I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got a little bit of everything!”) and setting her up with a pillow to lean against on the couch and then sitting down mere  _ centimeters from her.  _

Ann’s wearing basically nothing, a tank top that says  _ I Wake Up Like This _ in English and scandalously short sleep shorts, revealing what feels like meters of thigh. Then again, she’s seen Ann in a skintight latex catsuit, how is this that much more revealing than  _ that _ ? 

And yet, she’s reacting much more, more than she ever thought she was capable of, even towards a girl as drop-dead gorgeous as Ann. She feels overdressed for showing up in street clothes (or as close as Futaba’s wardrobe is capable of reaching) and a thick jacket, having had to ride the train here in the middle of the freezing winter. Maybe she should have brought a change with her.

When the show starts, Futaba can’t help but cackle as they skip the intro entirely. “Oh man, they’re really leaning into the drama. This is the most mature Featherman has been in years!” 

Ann wiggles in her seat, clutching her own pillow to her chest.

“Oh, I know, right? Featherman Phoenix is going back to the old school Featherman of the 80s, I love it.” 

Futaba spins in place to face entirely towards Ann, eyes wide. “W-w-wait! You know Featherman? I thought you just liked girl villains!”

“I do, and Featherman always has the best ones! I’ve been watching ever since I was a kid, Dad always found me DVDs when we were abroad so I could keep my Japanese fresh. You should see my room, I found a place that printed wall scrolls of everyone, so I got one of Takeba-sama as Featherman Pink. It’s not the best printing, but I love it anyway.”

Futaba can feel her brain hit a recursive loop as Ann keeps talking. _She’s…a nerd?! BUT SHE’S HOT!_ _THIS ISN’T FAIR!_ She snaps out of it when Ann squeals and points at the screen, forcing her to turn back towards the screen.

“It’s Queen Syzygy! God, the actor they got for her is  _ soooo _ hot, it kills me. She looks like she stops trains when she’s on the platform…” Ann sighs dreamily as the voiceover details what happened last season, while the scene resolves into the evil Queen Syzygy sitting on her throne, leering down at Featherman Pink laying on the ground with Saffron’s boot on her side. 

Futaba can’t help but agree with Ann; she’s got the reddest lipstick money could buy and eyeshadow dark as night, dressed at the edge of kid’s show decency by showing just enough skin at her arms and upper chest (no cleavage, of course) to remind you that she’s supposed to be hot, but also enough bats and dark cloth imagery to remind you that she’s also supposed to be evil. She looks like she could just as easily be in a goth club ruining some poor man’s life for a thousand yen a minute as starring in a kid’s show.

“The costuming has gotten really advanced since the last series. I remember the evil witch used to look like she had paper mache boobs.”

“Oh, she did, actually. They couldn’t find anyone with big enough boobs who fit the character, so they made her a chest piece to fit the rest of her robe. Kind of a weird decision, but hey.”

“Seriously? I didn’t know that…I never figured you for liking this kind of stuff.”

“Ehh, I’ve got a soft spot for it, you know? This is, like, my Yusuke-level obsession. My parents love fashion, and I do too, but I really just love costuming in general. When they come up with something crazy and make it real, I live for that stuff!” Futaba nods, her attention creeping from the screen back towards Ann. 

She’s holding her pillow to her chest with her chin on her knees, attention rapt on the screen. This is the first time she’s seen her without makeup, and she feels her heart beating in her throat when she realizes how incredible she looks regardless. 

Coming here was probably a bad idea. But…it feels good. Natural, even. It took a long time for Futaba to be able to go outside without feeling like she’s going to die, but now everything feels…fine. Everyone’s been so sweet (especially Akira, who has been like a big brother for her), but Ann definitely stands out as a big force for helping her get over her people phobia.

Futaba scooches over on the couch, leaning against Ann’s side with her arm, head resting against Ann’s pillow. She braces for Ann to shift away, but neither of them move.

The deadly twist of the episode is the reveal of Saffron’s true identity, previously hidden via camera tricks and character deaths; Pink’s mentor from last season…and current girlfriend. The reveal, though…

Both of them scream as the episode end music plays while Saffron pulls Pink to her chest in front of the rest of the team, ripping off her Featherman helmet and passionately kissing Takeba-sama. The freeze-frame lingers for only a moment before leaping directly into a too-peppy ending theme. The silence of Ann and Futaba’s total shock lingers until the video stops, popping up the ‘up next’ dialogue on the smart TV. They both leap to their feet in unison, shouting and gesticulating at each other and the screen.

“Can you BELIEVE—”

“I KNOW! AND THE SCENE WHERE THE QUEEN S—”

“OH MY GOD, RIGHT?! I’M GONNA—”

“THIS IS SUCH A BIG DEAL! AHHHHHHH!”

“YEAHHHHH!! WE GOTTA WATCH IT AGAIN!”

They both sit down immediately, buzzing with newfound energy at the bounty they’ve been given by the show writers. When they settle in, Ann abandons pretense entirely and puts her arm around Futaba, pulling her closer, Futaba’s startled yelp getting drowned out by the opening theme playing. Ann gives her a big smile as the opening ends, and Futaba can’t help but return it, wondering how Ann hasn’t noticed Futaba’s heart hammering in her chest like a nightcore remix of a sugar rush.

* * *

 

“Weren’t we—supposed to be—looking at all your—Featherman stuff?!” Futaba sputters between insistent kisses pressed upon her by Ann, who giggles in response and moves her lips from Futaba’s mouth to her neck, speaking into her throat.

“Aren’t you having fun?”

“W-well, yeah, but…” Futaba fidgets with her hands in her lap, looking around Ann’s bedroom room to try to calm herself while Ann leans against her shoulder, so incredibly warm and close and so so so  _ there _ that Futaba can barely stand it. She’d been the first one to start a kiss back on the couch after the episode ended, though she can’t say why except to compare herself to a rat backed into a corner by a…a cat. 

No…a panther. 

A very very very cute panther who just spent the last half hour wrapped around her and chatting quietly but directly into her ear while they rewatched Pink and Saffron’s kiss for the tenth time. It was the only logical response to such concentrated sex appeal and intimacy at such proximity!

Not that she minds any of this.

Far from it.

“But?”

“But…I kinda really wanted to see the wall scroll, but if we’re doing this, I don’t think I can deal with Takeba-sama watching…” Ann snorts, and Futaba makes an affronted noise. “I’m serious! She’s looking  _ right at us! _ ” 

“Okay, you big nerd, I’ll protect your idol’s innocence.” Ann kisses Futaba’s throat and stands up, turning the wall scroll hanging at the top of the bed towards the wall, then frowning at the backwards face of Featherman Pink that is still looking at them. Futaba cracks up as Ann starts rolling it up instead, taking it entirely off the wall and tucking it into the pile of pillows at the head of the bed. “Shut up, you nerd, I forgot that it’s two-sided!”

“And I’m the big nerd?! Your room is a shrine to suit shows!” Ann whirls around, jumping back onto the bed and shoving Futaba down onto her back.

“It is  _ not!  _ It’s a shrine to  _ villains of suit shows _ !” Futaba laughs, pulling Ann down with her and putting on a brave grin that only feels a little fake.

“Okay, miss villain, what are you gonna do to me now that you’ve brought me back to your lair?” Ann responds by pinning her hands above Futaba’s head with her own and silencing Futaba’s screeching laughter with a long kiss, pressing herself into Futaba, whose internal Futaba begins sounding alarms at everything going on, while she tries to follow Ann’s pace. Arms around shoulders and cuddling on a couch are one thing, a  _ very hot _ girl who  _ likes you _ being  _ on top of you _ pressing  _ her boobs and everything _ into you is another thing entirely. 

Any other person, any other situation, and Futaba would be escaping so quickly she would punch a hole in the sound barrier. Futaba mastered the awkward side-hug in elementary school to avoid ever having to touch more than 20% of a person even during such an intimate action. But here… She’s zen, more worried about meeting Ann’s expectations than the feel of Ann’s hand snaking under her shirt with the utmost care. 

She thought to herself how right it felt to just be around her, and finds herself doing so again when Ann lifts herself off of Futaba and pulls them both back up into a lazy embrace. Futaba’s cheek collides with boob, and she can hear the rushing of her own blood in one ear. Ann doesn’t move her, so she stays still, catching her breath. Futaba feels like she ran a marathon, which by her internal metrics is approximately the distance from her house to Leblanc and back.

“So…I think I’m done making out for today. You?” Ann’s voice does little to hide how exhausted she sounds, either.

“Yeah, same.”

“Great. You…wanna keep watching Featherman together? Next week, I mean.” Ann’s chin comes to rest on Futaba’s forehead, and she hums in response. Ann keeps talking, a slightly manic tone entering her voice “My parents are basically only ever home once a month, they spend most of their time overseas doing work stuff. You’ll probably never have to meet them, and I’ll buy your favorite drinks. I keep a ton of snacks around, too, just tell me what you like and I’ll buy it.”

“You don’t have to buy me, jeez.” Futaba laughs softly, patting Ann’s leg. “You definitely can, but you don’t have to. I do have one question, though.”

“Shoot.”

“Is that a real Featherman costume?” Futaba points at the pink vinyl sleeve trapped between the doors of Ann’s closet. She hisses out a sigh.

“Yeah, it’s surplus they sold off a while back, Mom knew a friend who got me one. But it’s sized for Takeba-sama and she’s only 5’2” so it’s too small for me. I was hanging onto it to see if I could find another and use some of the material to add some length to the sleeves.”

“…I have an idea.” Futaba pulls her phone out of her pocket, tapping through her browser and holding up a webpage for Phoenixfest in June next year.

* * *

 

The next Sunday, Ann has a new set of clothing laid out for Futaba, a thoroughly comfortable official Featherman merchandise sleep shirt (the Phoenix logo is on the front, it’s flame colored a deep pink) and understated harem pants that are just on the right side of warm. Not that she has any problems for warmth in Ann’s home, thanks to the constant, always-on warmth of Ann’s skin and her near-constant need for contact, even in the smallest forms. Hands, arms, torsos, even feet, contact seems to be essential to her, and Futaba’s normally massive personal space firewall seems to have a port open for her specifically, much to her internal Futaba’s chagrin.

Their summer plan starts out amorphous, hashed out slowly over the course of Sundays spent together and text messages on the weekdays, whispered conversation in the Mona-van and evening meetups in Leblanc when time allows. Akira leaves them alone during this, watching from the bar when he works alongside Sojiro (who seems to be taking the same tactic, though he also confides in private to Futaba that this is not disapproval, merely an attempt to give her space to breathe). They never speak about it, but his silent regard is enough to make clear the sanctity of their privacy.  The stress of Mementos, and their investigation into the underlying nature of the same, has led to many unconventional coping strategies, and Akira isn’t about to start policing his team any harder than he had, which is to say at all.

Not that they hide their activities from the team, either. Ryuji at one point comments that he always knew Ann would want ‘somebody geeky to go on about nerdy shit with’ when they’re sitting in the waiting room in Mementos one afternoon. Ann slaps the  _ shit  _ out of him, to raucous laughter from Futaba. Ann texts her a picture the next morning of Ryuji at school with a bandage on his cheek to cover the handprint and an exasperated expression.

The events of December 24 th were hard on everyone, regardless. Joker’s disappearance on Christmas, even moreso. Events blend together, and the Thieves fight as one and individually for his freedom and support one another in all the ways they can, but Ann and Futaba lean on each other in every way they know how. They cry until they can’t anymore, and wipe away both of their tears. They rage at the injustice in private and in public, and soothe each other when words cannot satisfy them. 

None of the Thieves stop fighting.

The summer plan falls by the wayside until Akira is freed, given his absolution for crimes imagined and real, and returns to the countryside only long enough to retrieve more of his possessions from his now-former family. Somewhere in the mess of legalese and prosecutorial backbiting over his case, Akira, Sojiro and Sae managed to not only get him removed from his family’s custody, but also had his legal name changed entirely; the laws regarding the broadcasting of the incriminating details of minors’ records had been flagrantly broken by several media outfits in January, and the simplest route around it was to give him a new life as Ren Amamiya, legal ward of Sakura Sojiro.

With his return, things return to normalcy. Or whatever normalcy passes for in their lives. Ann and Futaba go out to eat more (Futaba discovers a love for foreign carbohydrates as Ann takes her restaurant hopping across Tokyo, and that Ann’s tolerance for sugar is many times higher than her own, leading to many half-finished crepes being passed to her), finish the season of Featherman Phoenix (to both joy and sorrow in equal measure) and start planning in earnest for Phoenixfest. 

By March…

* * *

 

“Ughhhhh, this isn’t  _ working _ !” Ann holds up the chunk of Featherman Pink sleeve she’d been trying to sew on the living room table, scowling at it. “Even the leather needle is barely getting through it…How do they do it?”

“Probably some crazy expensive costumer super-sewing machine worth hundreds of thousands of yen.” Futaba is sitting next to her on the floor, her laptop in her lap. 

“Yeah…Man, I was so excited to do a Pink cosplay, she’s so cool! What the heck am I gonna do for Phoenixfest then?”

“You know, you don’t have to cosplay for it, we could just go like normal people.” Ann leans down, ruffling Futaba’s hair. “Heyyyyy!”

“Yeah, we could go normally, but that’s not as exciting! Hmm…What to do, what to do.” She sets the costume aside, scooting off of the couch and wrapping an arm around Futaba’s shoulders. “What are you looking at?”

“Cosplay stuff. I’m kinda curious about doing one, too, to be honest? Something with a mask, ideally.”

“Well, you’ve got plenty of options.” Futaba switches tabs from a Featherman fansite to eBay, where she’s searching for premade cosplay outfits. “Aww, that’s no fun. If you do get one, can we at least alter it some? Battle damage would be real easy, or maybe a swimsuit version? It’d be really fun trying to make it look like the actual suit.” Futaba snorts, nudging Ann with her shoulder.

“You had as much trouble as you did adding 4 inches of material, and you want to make a swimsuit?”

“I’ll get a better sewing machine! I’m sure I can talk Dad into buying one for the house, they keep complaining about not having the right stuff to work at home when they’re here anyway. Ooh, look, Featherman Saffron!” Ann points at the screen while Futaba keeps scrolling. “Hey, go back! I wanna see it, we could do a couple’s cosplay!”

“How, you can’t fit in the Pink suit...” She scrolls back up anyway, clicking it and flipping through the photos. The final shot is a height marker, showing the full length of the suit and the height of the original owner.

“No, but  _ you _ can, and I can be Saffron! We can…you know…” 

“You know  _ what _ ?” Futaba turns to look at Ann, eyebrows raised.

“You know _ …reenact the kiss _ …” Ann leans closer, whispering. Futaba’s eyes go wide in shock, then she shakes her head furiously, red hair flying everywhere. 

“Nuh uh! No way! No PDA, especially not at a CONVENTION! _ ” _

“AWW, Come ON, Futaba! It’d be so much fun! People would eat it up, too!”

“I don’t want people eating us up, that’s crazy! I…” Futaba trails off, seeing the hurt expression on Ann’s face. “Ann, I  _ just _ got over going outside like a normal person without a panic attack, this is a lot to ask!”

“I know it is, but…” Ann takes Futaba’s hand, squeezing it between both of her own. “I really want to show you that people’s attention really isn’t as big a deal as you think it is! And there’s still months until we’d have to do it, so we could work up to it! I don’t want to scare you away, babe, but this would mean so much to me if we could do it together!” She brings Futaba’s hand up to her face, brushing her knuckles with a soft kiss. “Please?”

Futaba’s internal alarm bells are ringing, but the girlfriend override she’s developed over the months breaks through the panic. “Ok…I’m not saying no, okay? Just…let’s wait and see.” Ann’s eyes shine like Futaba’s never seen before, and she knows in that moment how doomed she is. Ann could ask Futaba to fly her to Mars with that expression, and she knows that she’d start googling escape velocities and how much solid rocket fuel costs in 5 minutes or less.

They spend the next few months psyching Futaba up for Phoenixfest in every little way they can. They go to crowded Featherman meet events together, Ann starts taking more photos of them together (to the joy of the team, who always leave nice comments on her Instagram posts, but especially Haru who has become the team mom, pouring out love and care for everyone around her) to help her with her camera shyness, and they plan out their day at the event. 

They pick out a cosplay photoshoot event early in the day, so that the rest of the day is a kind of a reward for Futaba toughing out the hardest part. Ann makes minor alterations to both costumes once the Saffron costume arrives, and they do get Futaba a helmet to match the Pink costume, and plenty of props for each of them; Pink’s bow, Saffron’s pistol, their transformation feathers for the belts so they can act out their  _ henshin _ sequence. Futaba had to physically restrain Ann from buying more plastic garbage, knowing that they’d be lugging all of this around the rest of the day.

Finally, the day comes.

* * *

“Okay, everybody, and…Feather Transform!” The flash of a dozen photographers taking shots of the assembled Featherman cosplayers is blinding, the only thing saving Futaba’s eyes the deep tint of her helmet’s visor. Even if it is sweltering in the June heat, and impossible to see  _ anything _ with. She is only vaguely aware of where Ann is, because she’s got a hand on her back somewhere to either side of her, reassuring in its presence.

“Okay guys, take 5, then we’ll break out to individual photo opportunities!” The director waves everyone off, and the crowd of cosplayers breaks into a cacophony of noise and motion, wandering away around the plaza outside the convention center, ripping helmets off and drinking, and so forth. Futaba remains in place, waiting for Ann to say something.

“Hey, you okay?” Ann’s head comes into view, and Futaba sighs with relief, yanking her helmet off and gulping the still-hot air outside. 

“Yeah, I was just baking in there, so I didn’t want to move.” She wipes her brow, sweat running down the vinyl glove and dripping onto the concrete. 

“Okay, let’s get you some water.” Ann leads her to some shade, pulling their bag out of the pile marked DO NOT TOUCH UNLESS IT’S YOURS with a cardboard sign above them and handing her a gigantic bottle, which Futaba accepts gratefully and sits down with a sigh. “Having fun?”

“I guess. Mostly just a lot of doing poses and trying not to ruin the shot.”

“Yep, welcome to modeling. Honestly, this is harder than the real thing, because you feel terrible when you don’t nail the pose from the show, actual modeling is way more freeform.” Ann sits down next to her, pulling her gloves off and flexing her hands. “And everybody’s such a critic! I was doing the pose, it’s just hard to move in this thing. I’ve got a real appreciation for the suit actors now, to be honest.” 

Futaba passes her the water when she’s finished off half, and Ann accepts it with a smile. “Yeah, for real. Those guys must work their butts off.” Futaba returns to people watching while Ann checks her phone for their schedule. 

Somewhere in the crowd, a stunningly tall redhead in a skintight bodysuit and a fur stole emerges from the crowd, accompanied by a Featherman Pink, complete with helmet and bow. They sit down at a bench next to them, talking quietly to one another. “Wow, what an outfit. That stole has gotta be so hot, I don’t know how she stands it.” Ann looks up from her phone, craning her neck to see.

“Oh my god, yeah. And she’s gorgeous, holy crap. I wonder who that costume is supposed to be, I don’t recognize it…?”

“We could ask. Not like we have anything to do until your photographer gets here, anyway.” Futaba stands, stretching her arms over her head.

“You…want to talk to strangers?”

“They’re not strangers, they’re cosplayers. We’ve got a shared interest! It’s different.” Futaba holds out a hand, and Ann takes it, not releasing it when she stands.

“Okay, let’s go then. I wanna ask her about the construction, too…” They make the short journey of a few feet, stopping in front of the two. “Hi! We just wanted to say how much we liked your costumes.” The redhead looks away from her Pink, an arched eyebrow going down as she puts on a gentle smile.

“Thank you. It’s…custom work.” Her Pink nods, not saying anything.

“It’s really well done. We did a little bit of alteration to ours, and I was wondering if I could ask a few questions about the construction, if you have a minute?” Futaba stays silent, watching the Pink carefully. Something about her seems…familiar, but she can’t put her finger on it. The redhead shakes her head apologetically.

“I wouldn’t be able to answer most of them, I’m afraid. As I said, it’s custom work, I paid a private shop to do the work. I could give you the name, but they’re rather…secretive. I hope you understand.” Ann nods.

“Of course, of course. Wow, I just realized we didn’t introduce ourselves.” Ann pulls a business card from one of her suit belt pockets, handing it to the redhead. “I’m Ann Takamaki, and this is Futaba Sakura.” Futaba notices Pink perk up, tapping the other in the side, but she ignores it. Something’s definitely weird about these two.

“I’m…Mitsu, and this is…Yuka.” She holds up the business card, a small look of surprise blooming. “Oh, Takamaki. Any relation to the clothing designers?”

“Those are my parents, yeah. I guess it’s a small world, huh?” 

“Quite.” Ann’s phone buzzes in another of her belt pockets, and she waves a hand.

“Oh, crap, our photographer is probably here. Well, it was nice meeting you, Mitsu-san, Yuka-san. Have a good day at the convention!” They both wave and disappear into the crowd, leaving Mitsuru and Yukari alone on the bench. Yukari makes a small noise of frustration, muffled by the mask.

“You know that was them, right? Two of them!” Mitsuru sighs, crossing her arms.

“I wasn’t expecting them to just walk up to us…or to talk to us, either.” Yukari groans. “Besides, we’re here on our day off. I’m not going to try to interrogate two teens at a convention. I’m just here to enjoy myself with you.”

“Is that why you wore that ridiculous getup?”

“I-I didn’t have anything appropriate, and walking around with you in costume would have felt strange.” Yukari scoffs, crossing her arms. “Someone might have recognized me, too. The stole is an effective cover, it draws attention from my face.”

“That’s not the only thing about your outfit drawing attention! You look like you had to be poured into that suit, you know that?”

Mitsuru scoffs. “Oh, please. You didn’t complain in Inaba.”

“I totally did! And even if I didn’t, this is different! Jeez. Forget it, let’s just go. There’s a panel I have to be at in 2 hours, and we can go wander around.” She stands, adjusting her helmet. 

“You know, we could go see how their photoshoot goes. One of them was dressed as your mentor from the show, yes?”

“Oh, god, please no. I already get sent enough fanmail about that scene from the first episode every day on Twitter, I don’t need to see two people reenact it.” 

“I think you’re too late, dear.” Mitsuru points towards the center of the plaza, where roughly a dozen paired couples of Saffrons and Pinks are kissing each other while photographers snap choice frames. The both of them have no trouble spotting the tall blonde and short ginger up on her tiptoes to kiss her girlfriend without bending down. 

Yukari groans in frustration, grabbing the sides of her helmet. Mitsuru stands, gently placing her hands over Yukari’s and pulling the helmet off. “Here.” She tilts Yukari’s chin upwards, dipping lower to meet her, trusting the anonymity of the crowd to keep them safe for just a moment. “Just forget about it. Let them have their fun, and we’ll have ours.”

“Fine…” Yukari sighs, closing her eyes as Mitsuru’s lips meet hers.

* * *

 

The moment they return home, both collapse onto Ann’s bed in a pile of sweaty vinyl and hair, Futaba draped across Ann’s stomach like a terrible blanket. Futaba groans, wiggling her face out of her helmet with as few movementsas possible, while Ann lays perfectly still, luxuriating in the chill of the air conditioned house. Futaba stretches once she’s free, trying to reach the zipper at the back of her neck and failing.

“Annnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn, it hurts to move and I can’t reach my zipper.” Ann chuckles softly, drawing her hand up Futaba’s side towards the base of her neck and leaving it there. “Come on, this thing is so gross and sweaty now, pleaseeeeee!”

“There it is.” Ann slowly unzips Futaba’s suit, who immediately wriggles her arms out of it and sighs with relief, not moving from her perch on top of Ann. “Okay, you gotta move, babe, I gotta get out of this thing too.” Futaba groans, and Ann rests a hand on her side, dangerously close to a dangerous Tickle Point she has identified after this many months together. “I’m warning you…”

“Okay, okay!” Futaba stands up, letting her suit fall to her waist, wrapping her arms across her chest and sitting down in the middle of the room with a huff. Ann sits up, slowly unzipping herself and looking at Futaba with a smug smirk.

“Honey, you don’t have anything I haven’t seen before, so cut it out.” Futaba blushes, very slowly letting her hands fall down to her lap. She looks away when Ann steps out of her own suit, sitting down in front of her in her underwear. “Hey. I had a really good day.” Futaba can see the brightness of her smile out of the corner of her eye, but looking directly at her nearly-nude form might cause her brain to enter kernel panic. 

“M-me too.” Ann creeps closer, moving forward on all fours towards Futaba. Rather than watch this out of the corner of her eye, Futaba opts to close them entirely, looking down at her lap and squeezing them tightly shut.

“Good. I’m really happy you stuck it out for me, babe.” Her voice is quiet in her ear, dark with emotion.

“It was f-for the both of us. I wanted to do it, too. I was just...scared.” Futaba swallows. “I get so worried about what could happen that I never make a move. But...you help me with that, a lot. Throwing me into new things. Giving me the courage to not worry. I know you’re there for me to support me, if I need it.”

“Futaba…” She can feel arms around her, and hear the delicate material of Ann’s bra scraping against her own. “Do you want to stay the night?”

There it is. That final flag tripped. She isn’t even scared, now. Ann’s presence reassures her, even if she still feels a possibly unhealthy amount of shame at seeing and enjoying her girlfriend’s body. It’s normal. This, right here, is normal. People do this all the time. Why not her? Mentally, she imagines the little Futaba in her brain hitting the big red Girlfriend Override button with both hands.

“Yeah. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”


	2. Attack of the Con Crud

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just couldn't stay away until I got to write a cute little bit about the most common after-convention mood: getting a freaking cold from somebody in there.

Ann watches a picture of Futaba posing sullenly in her middle school uniform rattle on the wall, a deafening sneeze just on the other side of the wall next to her shaking everything on the first floor. 

“Wow, she’s really sick, huh. I feel kind of bad…” 

Sojiro shakes his head, patting her on the shoulder with his free hand while the other balances two plates of curry in the perfectly steady way only a restaurant worker can. “She always gets this sick at least once a year, ever since she was a baby. She doesn’t know it, but her mom used to get the same thing every summer when the season changes, like clockwork. I used to joke I could set a watch to when she would start running a fever. Here.” He passes both of them into her hands and turns the knob on the door to Futaba’s room for her. “Thank you for stepping up, I really appreciate it. You two need anything, call me or Ren, okay?”

She nods, smiling. “Thanks, Sojiro.” They’d already had a talk months ago to cut out the ‘Boss’ thing, especially if she’s going to be dating his daughter. ‘It makes me feel like you’re my  _ chinpira _ or something, so just call me by my name, okay?’ was how he put it. He waves it off, heading back out of the house and back to the suddenly-packed Leblanc. Taking a deep breath, she taps the door open with her foot. “Futabaaaaaaaaa, I’ve got lunch…”

The room usually looks like a hoarder’s paradise, but this visit has a decidedly more medical theme. It’s darker than usual with her computer monitor off (but still running, of course; she has important things running on there), but she can see the room is covered in discarded cough masks and tissues tied up in plastic bags, half-drank bottles of green tea and cough medicine scattered around the floor. The patient herself is propped up in bed by roughly a dozen pillows and swathed by about 5 more blankets than usual, with her laptop in her lap. Her eyes are barely open, and she squints at the light entering the room and hisses under her breath. Or that might be her labored breathing, Ann’s not quite sure.

Kicking the door shut behind her, she offers a plate to Futaba, who shoves her laptop away from her and sets the plate in its place, yawning. “What time is it?” Her voice is phlegmy and quiet, and she coughs into her sleeve when she finishes speaking.

“Just about noon.” Ann pulls Futaba’s computer chair closer to the bed, sitting down in it and picking up her spoon. “Sorry I got you sick.”

Futaba takes a big bite of Sojiro’s curry, talking around the mouthful. “Wasn’t your fault, they call it con crud for a reason. That many sweaty nerds in one place, somebody’s gonna bring a cold and get everybody else sooner or later.”

“Yeah, still.” Ann takes a bite, recoiling as the sheer amount of spice registers on her tongue. “Haaa, holy crap! What did Sojiro  _ DO _ to this curry?”

“Oh, this is my special request. Anytime I get sick, I get really stuffed up, so he has a special triple spice blend roux he makes to clear my sinuses out. It’s so good, too, but I save it for times like this, or I’d get used to it and it wouldn’t work anymore.” Futaba pulls a tissue from a box somewhere under the blankets, blowing her nose for emphasis and dropping the shredded remnants in a bag. 

“Wow. He wasn’t kidding about this being a once a year thing for you then, huh?”

“Nah. It was gonna happen sooner or later, so don’t worry about it, alright?” Surprisingly, she already sounds better, and is definitely more animated. Futaba shovels more curry into her mouth, making pleased noises Ann is only used to hearing in a  _ very _ different context.

“That good, huh?” She takes a bite of her own curry, nodding. It  _ is _ good, once you get past the overwhelming spice...

“Better than good!” Futaba’s scraping up the last little bits of her plate. When she finishes, she eyes Ann’s half-full plate, sniffling. “...Ann…”

“What?” Ann rolls her eyes, smiling and already scraping together a spoonful of curry for the question she knows is coming.

“Are you gonna finish that?”

* * *

 

“Mitsuru, where are you? I’ve been waiting over an hour, and your stupid personal assistant keeps apologizing and dodging the question.” Yukari sighs angrily at herself, leaving a fifth voicemail on Mitsuru’s personal phone. “Call me back, okay? Jeez.” They’d made plans during Phoenixfest for Mitsuru to accompany her to an upcoming online panel show, a friends and family event where the panelists would bring a friend or a family member to ask audience questions about their role in the show.

Since Yukari doesn’t have much in the way of family anymore, and she would never, ever, EVER bring Junpei  _ anywhere _ , and the rest of the Operatives were indisposed, Mitsuru had blocked out time from her schedule for it. This was supposed to be their night together after they had such a good day at Phoenixfest, but had to part in the evening for other commitments. They’d even planned to go get dinner afterwards and everything. It turns out that an actor dating a CEO can be a pain when you’re both also secret agents…

Yukari paces the small room they reserved for cast members, watching her phone in her hand. This is so stupid. It’s just a goofy concept panel show! She can go out without somebody, and they can have somebody else ask her stuff. It’s not like the host would have much to do in this format, anyway, maybe he’ll like getting the chance to talk to her.

“Ugh. This sucks!” She throws her phone at the armchair in one corner, bouncing it off the only slightly soft fabric with a thump. At the same time, the door opens behind her. 

“Yukari…?” Yukari turns, finding a pale imitation of Mitsuru in the doorway. Her skin is whiter than paper where it isn’t flushed red, and her hair hangs limply over one shoulder. Her street clothes look like they’re already drenched with sweat, and she can see her personal assistant behind her looking mortified.

“Mitsuru? Oh my god, what happened?” She rushes over, pulling her into the room and shutting the door in the assistant’s face. “Are you hurt? Was that why you weren’t answering?” She leads her over to the only seat in the room, sitting her down gingerly after grabbing her phone out of the way. Mitsuru laughs, the normally soft quality to her voice replaced with gravel.

“Didn’t want to...let you down again.” 

Yukari puts a hand on Mitsuru’s forehead, eyes going wide when she feels the heat of Mitsuru’s skin.  “You’re sick. You’re crazy, and you’re  _ late _ , and you’re  _ sick _ !”

“Wouldn’t miss this for the world.” Mitsuru exhales, closing her eyes. Her hand goes up to Yukari’s on her forehead, pulling it down to her cheek.

“I...Ugh, you’re so stubborn. Coming out here with a fever like that…” Her fingers shift against Mitsuru’s face, rubbing up and down slowly. “Forget tonight, the producer can just deal with it. Let’s get you home.” She lifts Mitsuru to her feet with surprising ease, throwing the taller woman’s arm around her shoulder. “You know, I wouldn’t do this for just anyone.”

“...I know.” Mitsuru leans down, kissing the top of Yukari’s head. “Thank you.”

The door opens, Mitsuru’s assistant leaning into the room. “Madam president…?”

Yukari huffs, turning her face to try to hide her blush behind her hair. “She’s fine, I’m taking her home. You’ve got the rest of the night off once you order food for both of us and get it delivered to her place.”

“R-right. Understood, Ms. Takeba.” She scurries out of their sight as they head into the hallway.

“Honestly, you’re too stubborn, you know that? And you’ve got that poor girl under your heel, too, she couldn’t bring herself to tell you to stop.” 

Mitsuru’s response is barely audible. All Yukari catches is “...want someone else under my heel…”, which is more than enough to send her mind reeling towards many new, slightly terrifying places. She looks up at Mitsuru, who is doing her best to give Yukari a confident smile, that instead just looks mildly crazed. 

“Jeez, even at a time like this, huh.” She shakes her head, walking Mitsuru down to the parking garage. 


End file.
